The Introvert
by Starlindon
Summary: Eve Carter is shy and has built her entire life around being safely removed from people. Bruce Banner finds he has become an introvert due to his unfortunate condition. Tony Stark decides the pair have a lot in common and he needs to play matchmaker. Do Bruce and Eve stand a chance against a man who lives to interfere?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: The rating may be reset to 'M' later in the story.

Disclaimer: No, I didn't make money from this and I don't own anyone involved. Eve is a figment of my imagination.

* * *

_**Stark Tower**_

_**Two months Post Avengers events**_

* * *

"What?" Eve Carter thought she was going deaf. "Please repeat that last part."

"I said you need to come upstairs to the laboratory," Ana Santiago reiterated. "Derek Halstead just quit and we need another receptionist pronto." A loud sigh echoed in Eve's ear. "I have twenty lines just on my phone that are ringing off the hook. Do you think I have time to answer Derek's?"

Eve's eyes moved around her cubicle and she sank a little lower in her chair; almost as though Ana could see her skulking figure through three floors of concrete, plumbing, and slate.

The Finance Department had been Eve's home for three years. She was a low level clerk that spent her days pushing buttons that moved money between Stark Industries different accounts across dozens of banks and investment firms and back again. Eve had worked in Stark Industries New York office when it had been in a plain looking concrete building off Wall Street before Tony Stark decided he wanted all his New York staff consolidated into the shiny new Stark Towers building.

Eve was quite happy where she was; despite answering to three different bosses who all hated one another and constantly fed her conflicting orders.

Quiet, shy almost to the point of requiring medication just to speak, Eve was not what most would consider a people person. She had no desire to answer phones or talk to anyone she didn't already know… which was just about everyone.

Eve could count on all ten fingers the people she knew and conversed with on a daily basis: Ana Santiago, George Lewis, Connie Costello, Mark Olbermann, Jack Winkowski, Tess Smithers, Declan Rafferty, Catherine Carter, Douglas Carter, and Pepper Potts.

Ana had been Eve's friend from her community college days. George, Connie, and Mark were all her supervisors and hated one another with such vehemence; Eve decided during the crisis a few months back that Loki character would have hired them had he realized such vile, petty humans were available at a relatively cheap rate given that the trio fought over the one parking spot designated for the supervisor of their department. Sharing was not a word Connie, George, or Mark understood and Eve suspected all of them had been terrors in kindergarten.

Jack and Tess were bankers Eve spent most of her time dealing with over a couple of the more important Stark accounts. Declan was Eve's cousin and probably her best friend in the world; he was a personal assistant to one of Rave Magazine's style editors. Catherine and Douglas were Eve's grandparents.

Pepper Potts was Tony Stark's sometimes CEO and sometimes personal assistant. She was a lovely creature and very kind; Eve had bumped into Pepper in the elevator one day and spilled her mocha down the front of Pepper's $1,600.00 designer silk blouse.

Eve's face burned bright red at the memory.

_She'd been having a lousy day and that simply had been the proverbial icing on the cake. Cringing, Eve had stared at the gasping Miss Potts with a slack jaw and eyes that threatened to pop out of her head. Eve had been pretty sure she was soon to be making a visit to the local unemployment office._

_Pepper had waived her hands up and down; her face a blotchy red mask of utter shock. Little brown droplets of luscious mocha sprayed the elevator door as Pepper tried to flick the offending liquid from her fingers. "Oh shit! There goes $1,600.00 down the tubes! Can you dry clean chocolate out of ivory silk?"_

_Upon seeing Eve's stricken expression, Pepper had forced a smile on her face. "I guess we're both having quite the day. Are you okay?"_

_Eve's fingers had turned an ugly shade of brick red where the hot beverage had splashed her skin. Unused to most people in Stark Tower even noticing her, Eve had to force her thickened tongue to work. "I guess so… I mean yes. Maybe. Are you okay?"_

"_Fine," Pepper replied. "I'm Pepper Potts and you are?"_

_Eve choked down the grapefruit-sized lump in her throat. "Eve Carter. I'm so sorry Miss Potts…"_

_Pepper managed to smile; though her cheeks were still rosy. "Don't worry, I don't believe either of us were paying attention. Try to have a good day, Eve."_

_Eve had returned to her desk certain Connie would drop by with a dismissal. To her surprise, she wasn't fired that day – or the day after or the day after that. None of her superiors dropped by her little cubicle to mention the incident with Miss Potts; not even security joked about it._

_She ran into Miss Potts three weeks later in the elevator and the lovely red-haired woman held up her hands with a broad grin. "See, no long term damage." Miss Potts had been generous and amusing and insisted on asking Eve several questions of a personal nature. Eve rarely answered personal questions, but she found it hard to resist Pepper's charm._

Eve frowned as Ana's voice blared into her ear.

"Come on, Eve, I need help! Can you at least answer phones until my supervisor hires a replacement for Derek?" Ana's voice lowered and became coaxing. "Please? This will be a day at the most."

Shooting a look at the emails rapidly filling her inbox, Eve shook her head. "What about my work? I doubt Connie or George will let me spend the day answering phones in another department."

"I'll ask Mark," Ana replied. "He owes me big time for setting him up with Monica."

Monica was an intern in the legal department who was incredibly beautiful. Mark was good-looking, but he was also a total dope when it came to relating to the female sex. Eve had always wondered how Mark had scored with the lovely and intelligent intern.

"I don't know…" Eve watched as the guy from the mailroom stuffed her inbox with a large bundle of letters.

Ana huffed in disgust before drawing in a deep breath. "I swear on my life I will never ask you for another favor."

Eve's eyebrows rose. "Never?"

"Never _ever_," Ana promised.

This particular promise was worth its weight in gold since Ana was constantly hounding Eve for small favors; coffee runs, dog sitting, playing wing woman in bars Eve was ashamed to step foot in. The list went on and on…

"I'll be right up," Eve replied quietly.

Ana's relief was palpable. "Thank goodness! I'll call and clear this with Mark."

"What about Connie and George?"

"Let the three of them duke it out."

Eve packed up her mail and coffee cup after Ana hung up. She looked around her small cubicle. Charcoal gray, with a matching counter running along three sides, there were black storage cabinets on two sides and two overheads. The only decoration Eve had in the utilitarian environment was a calendar of India pinned to the wall and a mouse pad featuring _Daffy Duck_.

She had nearly made it to the elevator when George caught up with her.

"Eve, where are you going?" George Lewis was an older man with thick glasses and a nose that had been broken badly and never healed right. He was as wide as he was tall and had straw blond buzz cut; favoring brown suits with bad ties.

"Ana Santiago needs help on level thirty."

His eyes popped at her words. "Answering phones?"

"Yes, sir."

George laughed, long and loud, and Eve's face began to burn. "Come on, be honest. You're sneaking off for a break at that coffee shop up the street. I can understand the stress you must be under when you're the only employee handling all the transactions and reports for the department. You need a break, no problem, but there's no need to lie about it."

Before Eve could respond, Mark Olbermann appeared with a fine sheen of sweat across his forehead. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Mark shot a tight frown at his fellow supervisor. "Eve go on up to level thirty. Ana called and asked for your assistance."

"Who authorized our employee leaving to work in another department for the day?" George thundered.

"I did," Mark retorted calmly.

George's face was now nearly purple. "Listen here, Olbermann…"

Eve crept over to the elevator and prayed as she pressed the call button. To her relief, the pewter-colored doors slid open. She crept inside and hit the button for the thirtieth floor. The moment the doors closed, she nearly passed out with relief.

Scenes upset her and what Eve wanted most out of life was peace and quiet.

* * *

Level Thirty consisted completely of Research and Development Laboratories that were miniature versions of those Stark Industries had in California; though the New York R&D department was mainly focused on Tony Stark's clean energy initiative.

The elevator doors opened and admitted Eve into a large, bright reception area.

Across from the bank of elevators stood the long, wide reception desk with room for two people. Gently curved, built from sustainable bamboo stained a dark golden hue, with a polished black quartz countertop; the Stark named was emblazoned across the bottom front of the desk in large scarlet colored letters.

The highly polished floors were also bamboo and stained the same golden honey color as the desk. The walls were painted a soft, warm ivory which was reflected in the immaculate sofa and multiple chairs placed in front of the floor to ceiling windows to the left. Several small tables painted scarlet dotted the seating area and held magazines like _Science Digest_ and technical journals.

The walls behind the reception desk itself held a large painting consisting of brightly colored dots in a swirl Eve liked to imagine was a snowstorm although she really had no idea what it was meant to be. She had never been one for modern art or interpreting it.

To the right was a gorgeous restroom done in creams and dark stone and as spotless as the rest of the building. Under a large arch was a set of thick stainless steel doors leading to the cold water fusion R&D labs. The doors were kept locked at all times; the only access was either when Ana or Derek authorized entry from their computers or the security station immediately behind the doors opened them.

Ana's phones were going crazy. "Stark Industries Research and Development, hold please." Her graceful hands flew across the large multi-line phone bank. "Stark Industries Research and Development, hold please." She looked up and flashed a smile of relief at Eve. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

Eve gave a shaky smile in return before sitting at what had been Derek's part of the station. "So what happened with Derek? You didn't tell me."

"Tony Stark came by and made a few suggestions about Derek's clothing choices." Ana looked uncomfortable; her dark eyes wandering toward the flashing phone bank. "And Derek's haircut and Derek's coffee."

"Tony Stark didn't like Derek very much," Eve ventured as her hands rose to fiddle with her hair; twisting the short locks self-consciously.

Ana shrugged. "In Mr. Stark's defense, Derek did have a little bit of an attitude." She smiled; reaching out and slapping Eve's hands away from her hair. "You look fine and Mr. Stark will love you."

Ana Santiago was the sort of woman men worshipped; tall, willowy with curves in all the right places, with clear olive-toned skin most women would murder for. She had an oval face with classic features with impossibly perfect cheekbones and lush lips that gave Angelina Jolie a run for her money.

Today Ana was wearing a black pencil skirt with a pair of ridiculously expensive heels and a crimson silk blouse with a neckline that dipped low enough to make a man do a double-take without showing off all her assets. The red only accentuated Ana's lovely complexion and glossy onyx curls.

Eve felt like a frump next to Ana.

She was short with a curvy figure that would have been perfect if she'd been another three inches taller; instead Eve looked as though she had been a little too liberal with the cream cheese she spread on her daily bagel. Not fat, but pleasingly plump as Eve's grandfather liked to tell her. She suspected the term was just a polite way of calling someone out of shape and on the way to becoming fat.

Eve pulled at her dark gray trousers and adjusted the pale pink camisole and matching cardigan in the vain hope of looking somewhat professional. She had never been able to pull off the polished look and came across as someone who had thrown on their clothes in a panic because they were late to work.

She sported a headful of thick hair that was neither dark blonde nor light brown but an oddball combination of the two; she kept her hair in a razored bob style close to her chin because otherwise as the mop grew it became lanky and prone to being greasy. She didn't bother with makeup as it made her break out aside from a light colored lip gloss in a petal pink. She was so fair-skinned that tanning was out of the question unless she wanted melanoma in her golden years. Eve considered herself ordinary in the looks department with a heart-shaped face that had pleasant, average features that seemed rather forgettable.

Hazel eyes, which ran more toward the brown than the green side of the spectrum, and flawless teeth gave her a boost. All in all, Eve considered herself pretty plain and most of the men in New York seemed to agree.

"Tony Stark will probably fire me."

Ana raised one dark eyebrow. "Why?"

"Look at the women he hires to work here," Eve fluttered her hand toward her friend. "You're all like supermodels. I think he likes looking at pretty things."

"Wow, superficial much?" Ana questioned wearing a frown.

Eve felt a twinge of embarrassment that she had judged Mr. Stark so harshly; after all, she didn't know the man. Perhaps his playboy persona was just an act for the public which seemed obsessed with his every move.

Setting her mail on the desk next to the computer terminal, Eve folded her hands primly in her lap. "Show me what I need to do."

Ana nodded and punched a code into the large phone bank between them. She handed Eve a wireless ear piece. "Pop it in your ear, enter _Alpha Tango 751_, and calls will start coming in. Now, a lot of people have been on hold so they're going to be frustrated and some will just be out and out assholes. Don't let their attitude get to you. Just be courteous and direct the calls to either the R&D department or to the individual they request. You are not responsible to find a live body; if we get a voicemail just put the person through." Ana flashed a grin at Eve. "Why did you bring your mail?"

"I thought I would catch up on my work…" Eve blushed at Ana's ringing laughter.

"Trust me when I tell you there won't be any time for the mail."

"You don't sort the mail for R&D?"

Ana snorted. "Ah, no. The R&D department sorts their own mail. Ready to go?"

Eve tucked the Bluetooth into her right ear and nodded; she would have rather eaten a bowl of mud than go through with the agreement. Sadly, chickening out had come too late. "Yeah, I guess so."

Ana winked, and entered the code in Eve's terminal. She sat back and began answering lines. "Stark Industries Research and Development, hold please…"

A frown dragged Eve's mouth downward as her first call came in. "Stark Industries Research and Development."

"_Renaldo Estrella."_

Eve found the number for Mr. Estrella on her terminal and entered it into the phone bank. "Hold please." Estrella's voicemail picked up and Eve promptly transferred the call.

* * *

The call volume had been so high that when Eve had taken her lunch break; she gave serious thought to not returning. If Eve hadn't been terrified of Ana's reaction, she would have crept back down to Level Three and her sterile little cubby hole.

Eve had spoken so much, her throat was raw and her voice growing hoarse.

She had experienced hang ups, a gentleman who became so angry at receiving Mr. Estrella's voice mail… yet again that he called back and treated her to some very ungentlemanly names, and people speaking in such thick accents that she had to ask them to repeat themselves half a dozen times in order to understand.

Eve always ate her lunch in a small nook off the employee cafeteria on Level 2. No one seemed to like the four round tables looking at vending machines and facing a slim window with a view of the concrete building next door. Rarely, if ever, did anyone bother to come in unless they were desperate for a candy bar or some ding dongs.

She finished her peanut butter and jelly sandwich in silence. Sweeping the crumbs up, Eve dumped them in the plastic baggie that had held her lunch. She was aware it wasn't very healthy, but Eve wasn't a great cook so she suffered through a PB&J sandwich, diet cola, and an orange every single day.

The elevator ride up to the thirtieth floor was relatively quiet.

A few people popped in and out of the elevator, but no one she knew. No one spoke to her and she was okay with that. Dealing with people was a punishment as far as she was concerned. People usually fell into the angry, cruel, or sarcastic camp and Eve preferred to stay far away.

Ana was standing behind the reception desk and gathering her purse when Eve stepped off the elevator. She flashed a broad smile in her direction. "You came back! Fantastic! I thought for sure I'd have to go hunt you down."

Eve skirted around the edge of her desk; slight annoyance creeping in around the edges and mixing with anxiety. She was going to be left alone for a whole hour. A knot was forming in her belly at the thought. "Why?"

A chuckled escaped Ana's throat. "Perhaps because of the sour expression on your face before you went to lunch…" Ana looked like she was going to say something else, but the elevator chimed.

Two men stepped off. One was familiar to Eve through newspaper and TV accounts, but the other was no one she recognized.

Ana's face lit up like a church on Christmas Eve. "Mr. Stark! What a wonderful surprise."

Tony Stark was every bit as handsome and dashing as his media imagery portrayed him to be. Medium height, medium build, with wavy, almost obsidian-colored hair graying at the temples, a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee, and flashing dark eyes that Eve instantly recognized missed nothing. Intellect radiated from his entire being.

He wore a snug dove gray tee-shirt and black designer jeans with a pair of dark leather loafers. His look screamed casual and rich beyond all measure; she suspected the shirt cost more than one month of her gross pay.

Stark swaggered when he walked; nothing overly dramatic, but Eve noticed.

A bright smile crept across his face and his eyes seemed to dance. "Ana, my little flower, you have no idea how happy I am to see you. If only I wasn't in a committed relationship, you and I could have had something special."

Ana pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh. Keep thinking that if it makes you happy, Mr. Stark."

"How are the phone lines treating you?" He inquired lightly as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the polished counter. "Lots of ringy-dingy, I assume, and probably your fair share of assholes annoyed with the fact they can never reach anyone in R&D."

"Same old, same old," Ana replied. "Did you try and reach someone in R&D?"

Tony's full lips dipped downward before returning to a full smile that flashed a mouthful of perfect, brilliant white teeth. "My friend here called and all he received was voice mail – on seven different occasions. I decided to come down and see what was going on. Unscheduled meetings, Loki returned and wiped out my Cold Water Fusion laboratory for kicks, Bubonic plague…" He hesitated. "Does Kumar still bring scones and muffins on Tuesdays?"

"Yes, sir."

Tony smirked. "Great! I want a scone. Bruce, are you a muffin or a scone man?"

The other man shifted slightly and cleared his throat. "I, uh, try not to eat unhealthy foods." His voice was low and warm; his tone and the way he held his body self-deprecating.

Stark smacked him in the arm. "You, my friend, need a donut – a really big, chocolate glazed monster just dripping with gooey, custardy goodness."

"A Boston crème," Eve mumbled.

Tony Stark's eyebrows rose. "Hark," He cupped his hand to his ear. "I heard a strange voice." Stark looked over at Eve with such intensity that she longed to crawl under the reception desk. "Ana, introduce the newbie. You know I hate being kept in the dark when we hire new talent. Let's all have a moment of silence in hopes she's not the numbskull Derek was."

Ana chuckled warmly. "Mr. Stark, this is Eve Carter. Eve, this is Mr. Stark."

Tony's brow wrinkled before smoothing out. "I know that name." He pointed at Eve as knowledge crossed his face like dawn breaking across the eastern sky. "You're the girl who dumped her coffee all over Pepper."

Ana and Bruce both turned their dark heads in her direction. Ana's face was flooded with curiosity and accusation that promised loads of questions later. Bruce wore an expression of what Eve interpreted as sympathy.

"Yeah," Eve muttered as her face burned. "That would be me."

"Frankly I hated that blouse. I had the fringe benefit of getting to watch Pepper change in my office," Tony's dark eyes glittered with humor. "I give you two thumbs up. Make any condescending comments about my attire or hairstyle and you will find yourself in line next to Derek at unemployment. Comprende vousz?"

Eve nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Great!" Tony headed for the door with Bruce close behind him. "Glad we're all on the same page. Bruce and I are on the hunt for live bodies and scones. Fare thee well, ladies."

Ana hit the button which unlocked the doors and the two men headed into R&D.

Bruce hesitated a moment and gave them a small smile. "Ladies, it was nice to meet you both."

The moment the doors shut, Ana straightened and folded her arms over her chest. "You have some 'splaining to do – as Ricky would say to Lucy. How could you not tell me you spilled your coffee all over Pepper Potts?"

Eve sighed. "For fear of being laughed at by you."

"I would never laugh," Ana tried to deny as her lips twitched. Upon seeing Eve's pointed stare, she held up her hands palms out. "Okay, maybe just a little."

"Who was the other guy?"

"What guy?" Ana looked confused.

"The man who was with Mr. Stark."

Ana pinched the bridge of her nose. "I really need my break. That was Bruce Banner; he's a scientist of some sort and he works upstairs with Mr. Stark in his private laboratories." She checked her watch as she headed to the elevator. "I'll be back in an hour."

Eve entered her access code into her computer and frowned as all twenty phone lines lit up at the same time. "Oh shit."


	2. Chapter 2

The elevator was more crowded than usual. Bodies packed in upon more bodies. The chatter of people comparing television shows they had watched the night before. Bruce caught snippets of conversation between the two women in front of him about a man one was dating. He raised one eyebrow at the racy turn the conversation took. He had never been one to need such intimate details – he had a pretty damn good imagination.

Little by little, the elevator cleared as people took their leave.

Soon he was the only person left.

Bruce looked at his watch and tried to relax. He was running late to a teleconference meeting with Stark's R&D department and it irked him. He had never been one to be late. Suddenly, his dress shirt seemed to be three sizes too small. Tugging at his already open collar, Bruce didn't even notice when the elevator stopped.

A woman in cream-colored pants and a deep brown top stepped inside. She was short, maybe 5'3", with lots of curves and well-kept amber-colored hair. She was holding a stack of manila envelopes to her chest and her face was staunchly pointed toward the doors.

There was something vaguely familiar about her…

Bruce stopped tugging at his shirt and cleared his throat. "Ah, hey there, uh Miss… Miss…"

She turned and Bruce smiled; he snapped his fingers together. "…Carter. You're one of the receptionists from the R&D department."

Miss Carter looked to be in her late twenties. She possessed a pleasant face and pretty eyes; the sort of eyes a man didn't forget easily. Otherwise, she was rather unremarkable. Certainly, she was nothing like Betty, Pepper, the Black Widow, or even Ana Santiago whom she worked with. In Bruce's opinion she had the possibility of making herself attractive and for some reason chose not to do so. It wasn't really his business. In fact, he was better off not getting involved with women.

The _Other Guy_ was prone to outbursts when Bruce found himself aroused – whether in temperament or sexually.

Miss Carter smiled. "No, I was just helping Ana out." A blush, blotchy and beet red, spread across her cheeks and down the pale column of her throat. "I work in the finance department." She twitched as though nervous and turned her face back to the elevator doors.

Bruce normally would have stopped talking, but he was nervous himself and when nervous he was prone to babbling. He hated the trait and seemed unable to stop himself. "So you're a bean counter." The moment the words escaped his mouth, Bruce regretted them.

Miss Carter's spine seemed to stiffen and she lifted her head a little higher. "You might say that."

"No offense," Bruce offered as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. "We need bean counters in the world. What would we do without them?"

Miss Carter was silent as she exited the elevator.

The moment the doors slid shut, Bruce swore low under his breath. "You really stink at socializing, Banner." He shrugged as the elevator began rising. "Not that you were every any good, but after coming back from India you're ten times worse."

* * *

When the elevator stopped, he pinched the bridge of his nose and exited. The entire thirty-eight floor was one big laboratory with all the bells and whistles Tony Stark had promised him. Bruce, at first, had no intension of staying more than a few weeks. The lure of working in solitude, which was broken several times a day by Stark dropping by, had proven too much. He was able to research gamma ray poisoning to his heart's content. He wasn't sure he would ever be rid of _The Other Guy_, but at least he might be able to assure no one else suffered the same fate as he had.

A familiar, musical voice reached his ears. "Bruce, how are you today?" The slim, classically dressed figure of Pepper Potts came into view. She had her strawberry blonde hair up on her head in a French twist which only emphasized the long line of her throat. "You look a little out of sorts." She placed a small box on the stainless steel table beside her. "What happened?"

Bruce could feel his face burning. "I just insulted one of your employees on the elevator."

Pepper's elegantly arched brows rose. "Bruce, you are a sweet man. I can't imagine you insulted anyone on purpose."

"No," he shook his head. "The insult was most definitely inadvertent. I recognized one of the ladies from the R&D department reception desk. She told me she actually works for the finance department and I sort of called her… a… uh…" Bruce ran his hand through his hair and flashed a pinched smile in Pepper's direction. "… a bean counter."

Pepper laughed and covered her mouth with one hand; her eyes were wide with disbelief. "You did not!"

Bruce cleared his throat. "Yeah, I did." He pulled his glasses out of his shirt pocket and fiddled with them for a moment before passing the woman laughing at him. "I better get to work."

She had tears in her eyes and had to blink them back as she swallowed the laughter that threatened to erupt. "Tony is going to busy giving an interview to CNN. He wanted me to make sure you received this." Pepper pushed the box in front of him as he rounded the table.

He opened the lid and snorted with disbelief. "Is this a joke?"

Pepper shrugged. "I don't know. What's in the box?"

"You didn't look?" Bruce looked over the rim of his glasses at her.

She shook her head. "No, I've been with Tony Stark long enough to learn to reign in my curiosity."

Bruce reached over and pulled a pen off a nearby desk. He fished around in the box before drawing out a tiny scarlet red, sequined bra. He held it up in mid-air and let the slip of lingerie dangle precariously from the pen.

Pepper's brow furrowed. Two spots of deep red appeared at the top of her cheekbones. "What the hell?"

"This wouldn't be yours, I take it."

She frowned. "Most certainly not!" Pepper snatched the bra and shoved it back in the box. "Tony can tell me exactly where he obtained this. Why is he sending you lingerie?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "I can only make a supposition."

"Suppose away," Pepper answered darkly.

He shrugged. "Tony wants me to go to this club downtown…"

"A strip club!" Pepper's face was now entirely red. "Wait until I talk to that man!" She wagged a finger in Bruce's direction. "You are _not_ going to a strip club!"

Bruce raised his hands in a supplicating gesture. "Hey, it wasn't my suggestion." He watched as Pepper stormed out of the lab with the bra half-hanging out of the box. He shook his head as he moved to the nearest computer and entered his password. "Damn am I glad to be single."

* * *

Blackbird Books was a small shop the next street over from Stark Tower. Tucked away in an old building built sometime in the 1920's the concrete façade and deep burgundy drapes in the windows gave the place an aura of hominess that Bruce enjoyed. A sign hung over the door complete with a realistic blackbird perched on top of the wrought iron. Inside there was ample room, much more than one might assume from the exterior of the place. Several rows of bookshelves graced one portion of the establishment.

At the front, near the cashier stood a gleaming wood bar and behind it a barista busy making all manner of cappuccinos and lattes. He was brewing tea and regular coffee while serving scones, muffins, and slices of luscious bourbon-brown sugar pound cake. A simple chalk board hung on the wall behind the barista announcing the drinks of the day. Part of the charm of the place was the understanding that unlike Starbucks, one could only order a drink from what was listed on the menu for the day.

Customers packed the place.

Bruce decided he was lucky to find the bookstore fairly quiet when he took his break. Late afternoon was usually the busiest time of the day. He headed straight back to the classics section. His fingers drifted across the spines of several Dickens novels as he searched for one in particular.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce noticed movement.

He looked up to find none other than Miss Carter staring at him. Her small hands were curled around a large takeaway cup of coffee. Bruce smiled and gave her a half-wave. "Miss Carter," he greeted quietly. "A pleasure to see you again."

She shifted a little in place. Her head turned first to the right and then ever-so-slightly to the left. Her eyes were on the cup in her hands. "Hello."

Bruce had the distinct impression Miss Carter was uncomfortable in his presence. He was used to people acting hinky around him, but it was mostly after they had a run in with the _Other Guy_. Bruce had always been careful to cultivate a quiet, unassuming air around him so he could avoid making people feel awkward. He scratched the side of his jaw absently. "I apologize about earlier." She looked at him and he swallowed thickly. "Calling you a bean counter was rude."

Miss Carter shifted again; carefully avoiding all eye contact. "You like Charles Dickens."

He decided that he liked the sound of her voice; it was soft and held the dying traces of an accent he couldn't quite place. Bruce cleared his throat. "Dickens is a favorite of mine. I was looking for a copy of _Bleak House_."

"Have you ever read _The Mill on the Floss_ by George Eliot?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, I can't say that I have."

Without looking anywhere except at her coffee cup, Miss Carter reached over to the shelf near her shoulder with one hand and pulled out a book. She held the book out to him. "You should give Eliot a try."

He noticed her hand was trembling badly. Bruce smiled at her even though her eyes were everywhere but on his face. "Thanks, I'm always looking for a good book."

She finally looked him in the face.

There was something about her that touched him. Perhaps because she was the only person he had met that was more introverted than he was. She was so nervous he could almost smell the adrenaline perfuming the air around her.

Bruce had never enjoyed seeing someone upset in his presence. "The coffee smells good. Vanilla?"

Miss Carter nodded. "Vanilla caramel." She looked away from him for a moment; almost as though gathering her courage before returning her gaze to his face. "Do you like coffee?"

"I used to drink a lot of coffee." He shrugged and palmed the book she had handed him. "I traveled in India for a while and managed to get myself hooked on tea."

Her hazel eyes opened wide upon taking in his words. "You've been to India?"

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, I spent about a year traveling there." He realized that this conversation was the longest he'd had with a woman since Betty; aside from Pepper or Natasha Romanoff. It felt good to talk to someone besides Tony and the guys in Stark Industries R&D department. "Have you been to India?"

Miss Carter shook her head. "No, I've never had the money to travel. I understand India is very beautiful."

"India is beautiful and terrible," He tucked the book under his arm and decided to buy it. "The poverty and sickness there is enough to break your heart, but the people are amazing."

She seemed entranced by his words. When he stopped speaking, she blinked. "Jasmine tea is wonderful."

Bruce tilted his head. "Pardon?"

Miss Carter's cheeks turned pink. "You said you like tea."

"Ah yes," he smiled. "I do and jasmine tea is one of my favorites."

She half-turned away and stared at him from the corner of her eye. "I have to get back to work or my bosses will be looking for me."

Bruce decided he liked Miss Carter. She was painfully shy, but the fact she had made the effort to speak to him marked her, in his mind, as someone who was strong. He knew how painful it could be to overcome bashfulness. Something she said stuck in his mind. "How many bosses do you have?"

Miss Carter had turned to leave, but she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. "I have three supervisors."

He raised one eyebrow. "Good luck to you, Miss Carter."

She gave him a quick smile before leaving.

Bruce realized only after she was gone that he had forgotten to ask her first name. He grabbed a copy of _Bleak House_ and headed for the cashier. Suddenly, he was struck by a burning desire for jasmine tea.

* * *

Living in Tony Stark's tower was more than Bruce Banner could handle. He liked Tony, admired him even, but the idea of being at the man's mercy day and night was on the verge of being distasteful. Seeing as Tony paid him quite generously, he could afford his own apartment in Manhattan. In fact, he lived only three blocks away from Stark Tower in a Pre War building that appealed to his ideas on style.

The apartment was on the third floor so he could walk up if he desired instead of taking the elevator. Large windows let in a lot of light and gave him a half-way decent view up and down the street; nothing like he would have enjoyed on the fifteenth floor, but then the price was lower for property on lower floors of the building.

He had painted the walls a warm, deep cream color and kept the original dark wood trim. The marble fireplace had been scrubbed until it gleamed. The floors throughout were a dark hardwood that he had refinished. Bruce didn't need to change anything in the kitchen; though small, it had been upgraded by the previous owner. New butcher block countertops, open shelving, a Moroccan tile backsplash, and new appliances completed the look. The bedroom was small with just enough room for a double bed and a nightstand; he was happy to discover when looking at the property the closets had built-ins and pocket doors. The bathroom was done in crisp white subway tile with a glassed in shower, new toilet, and a pedestal sink – nothing fancy but clean and new.

Bruce had purchased furniture from a flea market in Williamsburg; all pieces that were comfortable and fit the house. He even bought a large framed black and white photograph of the White Mountains in New Hampshire and mounted it over the fireplace. He didn't bother with a television and instead had a small bookshelf under the windows. He preferred reading a good book to listening to the misery du jour on the evening news… he had seen enough misery to last him a life time.

There were times in the last couple of months that Bruce genuinely felt like he had a home.

He stretched out on his sofa, his reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose, with _Bleak House_ wide open. The only sounds were those of the clock gently ticking from the far wall, his heart beating, and muffled traffic rising from the street below.

Bruce smiled.

_Pound, pound, pound… BANG… BANG… BANG…_

He dropped the book on the floor as someone continued to beat on his door. "What the…"

Before he could even sit up, the deadbolt suddenly turned and Tony Stark admitted himself. He jingled a set of keys as he stepped inside. "Nice of you to give me my very own set of keys, Banner. Is there something you would like to share with me?"

Bruce pulled himself into a sitting position and shoved his reading glasses on top of his head. "I suppose this is about Pepper opening that box this morning."

Tony closed the door behind him and looked around the room before finally settling his gaze on Bruce. "Yeah, she wasn't too pleased and I just wanted to stop by and thank you in person for ratting me out." He leaned against the door and wiped a hand over his face. "Would you mind if I bunked here tonight? Pepper is livid pissed."

"Have you tried talking to her?" Bruce asked wearily.

Tony rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling and pursed his lips before looking back at Bruce. "Sorry to answer your question with a question, but have you ever seen Pepper when she's livid pissed?"

Bruce hesitated. "Uh, no… can't say that I have."

Tony flashed a wry smile in his direction. "I didn't think you had. Let's just say, I would rather go two rounds with your green rage monster than try to explain anything to Pepper once she's gone into the _livid_ zone." He took a few steps into the room and nodded. "Nice pad. I see you are spending a little quality time reading."

Bruce nodded and stood. "Yeah, I'm not one for television."

Tony raised one eyebrow upon seeing the book Bruce held. _'Bleak House',_ he mouthed in clear disapproval. Frowning, Tony grabbed the book sitting on the coffee table. His brow rose so high it nearly met his hairline. "_The Mill on the Floss_? I haven't read anything by Eliot since I was in school… thank heavens. Did you really pick this out on your own? Frankly, I always considered Eliot novels to be the literary equivalent of chick flicks."

"I…"

"Tell the truth," Tony advised. "You look like you're getting ready to lie."

Bruce's face became hot. "What? No! Miss Carter picked it out for me…"

Tony pounced and Bruce realized he'd made a huge mistake. "Miss Carter?" He tilted his head and turned the book over in his hands; his brain clearly on overdrive. Suddenly, a huge grin broke over the entrepreneur's face. "You sly dog! No wonder you've been putting me off on the club – you've been flirting with Eve Carter from finance."

"I… no…"

Tony pointed at him. "Aha! I'll bet you didn't think I would catch on. Tell me; is she hot under all those sweaters? Does she have a sexy pair of legs under the trousers?" He dropped the book on Bruce's couch and began rubbing his hands together. "Come on, man, I need details."

Bruce shook his head. "No, it isn't like that."

"It isn't?" Tony looked a little deflated like a party balloon left on the ceiling days longer than it should have been. "So there's nothing untoward going on? No steamy office romance."

Bruce raised one eyebrow. "Not so much, no. I ran into Miss Carter at the bookshop and she was kind enough to make a book recommendation." He chuckled and set his book down on the coffee table. "Sorry to disappoint, my friend, but there is absolutely nothing going on between me and Miss Carter. Besides, you may not have noticed, but she is incredibly shy and I don't think she would appreciate someone hitting on her… especially a man who turns into a giant green monster who smashes everything in sight for kicks. I seriously doubt that would be a turn on for her."

Tony smirked. "Have you asked the delightful Eve if she has a fetish for tall, muscular green men? You never know, she might find that sort of thing sexy…"

Bruce grabbed his friend by the shoulders and began pushing him toward the door. "Uh, no, I haven't asked her about any fetishes nor do I intend to do so. She would probably die of heart failure. Now, I think it's time you went home and had a chat with Pepper. She's probably worried sick." He opened the door with one hand and gently shoved Tony into the hallway with the other. "Go home, apologize profusely, and I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Tony Stark stood in the hall as though thunderstruck. "Are you throwing me out?"

Bruce smiled. "It would appear that way." He reached out and grabbed the spare keys from Tony's fingers. "I'll give these to Pepper for use in an _emergency_. Now run along home." He leaned against the door frame and wagged a finger in Tony's direction. "No more pounding or knocking on the door tonight. The _Other Guy_ might make an appearance and I'd really rather avoid making a mess of the place."

The door slammed in Tony's shocked face followed by the clicking of Bruce's locks.


	3. Chapter 3

Eve had been so busy with the latest Stark Industries audit that she rarely had time to escape her desk for her afternoon break. Every day was the same routine without fail – she took twenty minutes and headed down the street to Blackbird Books and bought a large coffee. Mostly she preferred the flavor of the day, but occasionally she decided to mix things up with a mocha.

Rick from the mailroom, a skinny young man who just turned nineteen, half-pushed, half-rolled a slender steel cart into view. He smiled as he stopped beside her desk. "Hello, Miss Carter. I have quite the stack for you today."

Eve's eyes almost popped out of her head as he struggled to pull out the largest bundle of letters, air mail packages, and assorted interoffice envelopes that she had ever seen. "Uh…"

"Impressive, huh?" Rick grinned at her and exposed a mouth full of braces. "Two feet high by one foot long – we measured it in the mailroom."

Impressive wasn't exactly the term that Eve had for the ginormous stack wobbling precariously in Rick's arms. In fact, Eve had another word for the mammoth delivery. Instead, she swallowed her less than ladylike reply. "Yeah… impressive."

With her response, Rick dropped the stack on the edge of her desk. The entire surface rattled ominously. "Well, my job here is done. Have a great day, Miss Carter."

Eve collapsed against the back of her chair as she tried to ponder how best to pursue taking the monstrosity apart. She had her chin in her hand and a gloomy expression on her face when Mark Olbermann stopped by her desk with his afternoon cup of joe firmly in hand.

His brow rose as he looked first at what was possibly the largest stack of mail he had ever seen and then deliberately at Eve. He looked back at the mail. "Wow, it sucks to be you, Eve." Mark took a drink of coffee before looking in her direction again. "You wouldn't happen to have the report for audit on all the OFAC transactions, would you?"

Eve wanted to strangle her boss, though Mark was the nicest of the three she dealt with. She reached over to the tray she kept closest to her mouse pad without even looking. "Right here, Mark." Eve handed him the paper. "Do you mind if I take a break? I really need to walk away for five minutes."

Mark shrugged. "You're certainly entitled to a break. Are you staying late tonight? I would hate for you to fall behind."

Eve was the only actual employee in Stark Industries New York finance office… yet she had three supervisors. She had never quite figured out why there weren't three employees and one supervisor. No matter how tempted Eve was to ask, she was smarter than that. Not able to look Mark in the eye, Eve turned her chair resolutely in the direction of her computer screen.

"I believe I will be here a few hours later than I planned."

Mark was bobbing his head sympathetically; she could see his reflection in the glare of her screen. "Make sure you get yourself a snack while you're buying coffee. I wouldn't want you to get sick."

Eve knew that was Mark speak for _'… I really don't want to get stuck doing your job.'_

"Thanks for reminding me, Mark."

She waited until Mark was gone before letting out a huge sigh. "I need a vacation…"

* * *

Eve answered an instant message from Ana asking about the possibility of dinner. When she replied in the negative, Ana simply called her. "Working late _again_?" Ana's voice dripped disgust. "That's positively sick. Eve, you need to get out and have a life."

"I do have a life," Eve replied; the phone receiver tucked between her chin and her neck. She rifled through the vast mountain of envelopes on her desk and pulled out what looked like another invoice. "My life happens to involve work." Eve's eyebrow rose as she found herself looking over a bill for cocktails Tony Stark had charged at _Le Cirque_. He must have been very thirsty that night since the tab had run up to nearly $3,500.00. She tossed the invoice into a pile headed for the accounts payable department. "I need money and therefore, I need this job."

Ana harrumphed. "You need to get _laid._"

Briefly, Eve pictured the dark and gorgeous Naveen Andrews from _Lost_. He was sexy, tall, with a lovely British accent and a body to die for. She had watched the show off and on just to look at her dream man. A goofy smile appeared on her face as she imagined him shirtless on a deserted beach.

_Oh, heck, yes…_

"Why don't you let me set you up with my friend Henry, he's a doctor…"

Shirtless Naveen disappeared with an almost audible _pop_.

Eve sat up straighter in her chair and swore under her breath as she realized the last five pieces of mail had been filed in her shred bin while she'd been busy fantasizing about great abs. Frowning, she bent and began pulling the items out of the bin. "No! No, thank you very much. I have no desire to date."

"You're such a bad liar," Ana accused.

"I'm not lying."

"Liar, liar pants on fire," Ana retorted sweetly. "Oh just give Henry a chance. He's rich and he has a hot ass."

Eve rolled her eyes and packaged up the items headed to accounts payable. "No can do. Look, I have to get going before I end up staying here all night. Do you want to meet for lunch tomorrow?"

"Sure," Ana yawned. "Oh, before I forget. I ran into Mr. Stark earlier today."

"Uh-huh," Eve mumbled as she began closing down the programs on her computer.

Ana's voice became thoughtful. "He was asking some questions about you."

Eve froze. "What kinds of questions did he ask?"

"Mr. Stark wanted to know if you were single and what you like to do for fun." Ana's voice became playful. "Would you like to make any sort of confession? Mother Ana is in and ready to listen."

"Oh please," Eve began. "Like that guy would ever leave a woman who looks like Pepper Potts. I've got to go. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Ana laughed merrily. "Maybe he was asking on behalf of his friend."

"What friend?" Eve asked absently as she smeared some pale pink gloss across her lips.

"His friend Dr. Banner, the dark-haired guy who follows him into R&D. Really soulful eyes, quiet, kind of cute…" Ana paused for just a moment. "Ring any bells?"

Eve dropped the wand of her lip gloss; it landed with an inaudible _plop_ on her sand-colored blouse leaving a smear. She remembered Dr. Banner all too well – she had run into him three days earlier at Blackbird Books. He had been in the classics section searching intently with a razor sharp focus.

Banner was around forty. He had sable-colored hair with a natural wave. Steel-grey was coming in at his temples and there were a few stray strands of grey here and there. He was average height and possessed a medium build. Banner was good-looking, but no Brad Pitt by any measure of the imagination. He had a strong, square jaw and chin; defined, full lips rounded out his features. His eyes were beautiful and his most memorable feature as far as Eve was concerned.

Dark, almost chocolate-colored, with thick lashes; the man's eyes were filled with intelligence, humor, and a strange sadness that had surprised her.

He had been wearing a pale blue, button-down shirt; open at the throat, and a pale of black slacks. He was carrying a dark grey corduroy jacket under his arm as he browsed.

Eve remembered he had smelled of sandalwood, though pleasantly, not like an escapee from an incense shop. She had seen him earlier that same day on the elevator when he'd called her a bean counter. The memory made her face grow a very unflattering shade of puce.

"Oh him," Eve replied evenly. "I'm not interested in Dr. Banner either. I have to get going."

Ana laughed. "Okay, you can't say I didn't give it the old college try."

Eve set the receiver back in the cradle of the phone and gathered her belongings. She slowly walked from Stark Tower to the bus stop trying not to think of Bruce Banner. People were cruel, Eve reminded herself. She had learned her lesson a long time ago.

_No need to put myself in a position to get hurt again,_ Eve mused.

* * *

"So what you're telling me is that bringing Bruce to a strip club is for his own good," Pepper's eyebrows rose in disbelief.

Tony fiddled with a wrench as he sorted through the tools he kept in order to work on his Iron Man suits. "That would be the gist of my idea. Look, Bruce Banner is a great guy. The more time I spend with him the more I like him. Why should he be sentenced to a life of loneliness and blue balls because he had an unfortunate gamma radiation accident?"

Pepper Potts hadn't spoken to the man she loved in three days. She had tolerated a lot of baloney from Tony Stark, including his penchant for hanging out with sexy, half-naked women, but she drew the line at him visiting strip clubs. There came a time in every life when a person had to grow up and act like an adult – this was Tony's moment as far as she was concerned.

She crossed her arms over her chest and took a step closer to Tony. He was dressed in an old pair of jeans and a jersey t-shirt; the fabric clinging to the muscles of his chest, defining them. The faint hint of citrusy-musk teased her nose and registered Tony's presence in a way that she would have recognized even if blind. His brow was wrinkled as he studied another wrench. He looked at times heartbreakingly young and lonely himself.

"You're really worried about him, aren't you?"

Tony turned his head in her direction. "I am worried. Bruce has learned to control the Hulk, but how long will his control last as he becomes socially isolated? I'm no psychiatrist, I admit. It just seems to me that one day Bruce is going to be so alone that his control is going to start slipping. He needs to have someone in his life besides us. We need to run the company and at least part of the year is going to be spent in California. Bruce doesn't want to keep moving around." He shrugged. "Do you honestly think letting S.H.I.E.L.D. cage him is going to improve Bruce Banner's outlook?"

"What makes you think S.H.I.E.L.D. would jail Bruce?" An icy fist closed around Pepper's heart. She genuinely cared about Bruce; found him to be a kind and gentle soul as well as a genius.

He snorted and his dark eyes were filled with seriousness as he watched her. "Nick Fury and his little buddies aren't going to just let Bruce walk away. Fury is watching him, trust me on that, and he's watching the rest of us as well. The difference between Bruce and me or Bruce and the Capsicle is that Bruce can slip up and the Hulk can take him over in an instant. The Hulk can't be reasoned with or controlled."

"And you can be reasoned with or controlled?" Pepper chuckled.

The corner of Tony's mouth lifted; his dark eyes sparkled. "I resemble that remark. Maybe not completely, but Fury has a better shot with Captain America or me. He doesn't have to worry about Hammerhead since he went back to his own dimension or planet or whatever. Fury has Natasha and Clint working for him so no worries there."

Pepper released a sigh. "Okay, let's say I accept your idea as legitimate. Why on earth would you bring him to a strip club? Why not introduce him to a nice, ordinary girl?"

Tony pointed at her. "Great idea, but the point is moot. It seems Banner has been flirting with a girl here at corporate."

"Who?" Curiosity overwhelmed Pepper's innate sense of propriety.

"Eve Carter down in finance." Tony began to toss the wrench from one hand to the other. "He told me they ran into each other over at Blackbird Books and she gave him a book suggestion." He released a dry laugh. "Yeah, right."

Pepper recalled the young woman who had dumped her mochachino down the front of Pepper's blouse. She had talked to Eve on several occasions on the elevator and found her to be a lovely, amusing, though very reticent person. If Pepper had to characterize Eve Carter in one word it would be shy. "Have you considered the idea that they aren't flirting and Eve just recommended a book like Bruce said?"

Tony stopped tossing the wrench. "No. Remember when I was trying to seduce you and I told everyone I needed you to stay late and visit me at my place because of a corporate acquisition?"

"Yes," Pepper admitted. "Tony, not everyone is as devious as you."

He smiled. "I know. Stop trying to compliment me, my head is big enough as is."

Pepper choked back a retort of less than a kind nature. "I hope you aren't planning to interfere, Tony. No one likes a meddler."

"I hardly think that calling Eve's friend and digging up the dirt on her is meddling."

Pepper stared at him; her eyes briefly falling closed in disbelief. "Oh dear heavens…"

Tony waved a hand at her to cut off the protest he could sense was coming. "Hey, my snooping uncovered that Miss Carter is a nice girl so you should be happy. She's a nice girl, he's a nice guy; both of them need to get laid… I'm sure you understand where I'm going with this."

Pepper threw her hands in the air and rolled her eyes. "I give up! I'm going back to work."

"Good," Tony remarked evenly. "Someone needs to answer my phone since I'm taking the day off."

Tony barely ducked the spanner Pepper chucked at his head; it landed with a metallic _thud_ somewhere across the room. Shrugging, Tony turned his attention to the suit. "Something I said, JARVIS?"

The computer remained quiet.

"Et tu JARVIS?" Tony went to work whistling.

* * *

Declan Rafferty clasped his chin as he studied Eve with a practiced eye. "Oh sweetie, yet another fashion no-no. Why am I plagued with a relation who is determined to shop at Walmart her entire life?"

The restaurant was a small, cozy affair on lower Broadway. Declan and Eve had been meeting for brunch there for three years. Every Sunday like clockwork, Eve put aside whatever she had been doing in order to meet her cousin. The exterior of the place was a simple concrete façade with a glowing neon sign above the door. The interior was fairly spacious, but nothing fancy; simply large, beige booths, some with a window view, some without, running the length of the room. The overhead lights were bright industrial type pendants above each table. Mellow 70's music played in the background.

Eve shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it in the book followed by her purse before sliding inside. "I do _not_ shop at Walmart. Will you stop riding me about my clothes?"

Declan raised one eyebrow. "Do you promise to stop wearing mom jeans that make your tush three times larger? I'll be generous today and just ask you skip the sweatshirt and old bra that make your boobs look like a couple of lumpy potatoes."

Normally, Eve would have been mortified, but Declan was the type of person who called a spade a spade. He didn't do it to be cruel or obnoxious.

She lifted her menu and stuck her tongue out at the man across from her.

Declan was tall but incredibly thin. He had the face of a Botticelli angel that women and men alike found attractive. He kept his dark blond hair razor cut into a fan of spikes and dyed the tips sapphire blue. His dark green eyes were filled with life and he was almost always smiling. He was conscious of clothes due to his job as an assistant to a fashion editor at a posh NY magazine.

He grinned in return before picking up his menu. "Why do we always look at the menu and then order brunch?"

Eve chuckled. "I guess we're just sick that way. Besides, it's our tradition so we need to stick with it."

The waiter came and the pair ordered brunch with mimosas. Once they were alone again, Declan rested his chin in his palm; one arm propped against the table's edge. "I wanted to talk to you about something serious."

Eve sipped her mimosa; the pads of her fingers slippery against the cool, dewy glass. "Oh yeah. What is it?"

Declan cleared his throat and looked away from her briefly at the people on the sidewalk strolling by. "You know I've been looking for another opportunity for work. Maria is becoming unbearable." Maria Crisetti was Declan's boss and a horrid wench according to not just Declan, but a good half of the fashion world if the newspapers were to be believed. "I found a job."

"That's great!" Eve enthused. "Did you score at Vogue?"

Her cousin winced before finally looking her in the eye. "No. I was offered a job as style editor at Bella Magazine… in Milan."

"Milan as in Italy?" Eve felt as though someone had punched her in the gut.

He nodded. "Yeah, Milan, Italy. I couldn't pass up the chance to work there, Eve. I might never get an offer like this again."

Eve felt her throat close as tears burned in her eyes. "You said yes?"

Declan's expression dissolved into one of deep concern. "Sweetie, I know you're upset, but we can talk about this."

"I'm really happy for you," she managed to choke out as she struggled to her feet; grabbing her purse and jacket. "I know I'm acting like a bitch, but I really need time to process this."

He reached out to her. "Eve, sweetheart…"

Eve stepped back and Declan caught only empty air. "I'll call you in a couple of days, I promise. I just need some time."

Declan watched as Eve dashed out the door and down the street. She was moving faster than she had in a long time. Disheartened, he chugged the rest of his mimosa and finished Eve's too.

* * *

Blackbird Books was only nominally busy for a Sunday morning.

Bruce was drinking a cup of freshly brewed jasmine tea and looking over the shelves in the science section. Nothing had caught his eye. He was always on the lookout for anything by Stephen Hawking to add to his collection. He took a long draft of his tea before returning to his search.

"You really like this store."

Bruce recognized the voice immediately. He turned to find the elusive Miss Carter behind him. His brow wrinkled as he took in her appearance. She was wearing a purple sweatshirt that hung almost to her knees beneath an old jean jacket with a pair of jeans that made her look twice as heavy as he knew her to be. She had her arms crossed tight over her chest and was looking not at him, but the bookshelf next to her.

Her skin was blotchy and her eyes rimmed in red and slightly swollen as though she's been crying.

Concern washed over him. "Are you okay?"

She finally turned her face in his direction. "I've had better days."

"I can see that," Bruce crossed the distance between them carefully; as though he were coming close to a scared rabbit. "Do you want to talk about it?"

The young woman licked her dry lips. "My cousin is moving to Milan for a new job. He's like my brother and I guess I'm not dealing with it so well." She shrugged. "I'll get over it. What books are you looking for today?"

She clearly didn't want to talk about her troubles.

Bruce realized this was the most he'd heard her speak and he wanted to encourage her to talk. He cleared his throat. "I collect Stephen Hawking. He's not just brilliant, but quite wry. I… ah…" Bruce cleared his throat, shifted his cup of tea, and held out his right hand. "Can we start over? I'm Dr. Bruce Banner and I'm pleased to meet you."

She stared at his hand a moment before reaching out with hesitation. Her hand was small and warm tucked between his larger fingers. "Eve Carter, I'm happy to meet you, Dr. Banner."

"Call me Bruce." Electricity skated along his skin where their palms touched.

Eve looked him in the eye and smiled. "Bruce…" She seemed to be testing his name; rolling it along her tongue. "I should really be going. I don't want to interrupt you…"

"You aren't interrupting me," Bruce replied gently. "Let me treat you to a coffee. I could really use the company."

Surprise registered on her features. "Are you sure?"

He chuckled. "Absolutely. Do you like to walk? We could go to the park."

Eve's face reddened just a little. "The park around the corner is lovely. I'd like that."

Bruce released her hand and escorted her to the counter. Ten minutes later, they were strolling through the small park and enjoying their beverages. Neither said very much, but Bruce noticed the silence was pleasant rather than awkward.

A cell phone began to ring and Eve pulled it from her purse. She checked the number before turning to him with an apologetic expression on her face. "I have to go. My grandmother just texted me and needs some help."

"Is everything okay?"

She flashed a tight smile in his direction. "If you don't count burned lasagna, everything is peachy."

Bruce tried not to laugh and failed miserably. "Nothing like burned lasagna to fog up the house."

"Thanks again for the coffee," Eve gave him a little wave and began walking in the opposite direction.

He turned and watched her. There was something about Eve Carter that he liked. She was quiet and thoughtful; her personality was like a balm to him. Bruce hoped he would run into her again.


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce Banner let out a long, slow sigh as he stepped into his apartment. He nodded once and closed the door behind him. Light was streaming into the living room and illuminated the black-garbed figure sitting on his sofa. "Director Fury."

The dark-skinned man, bald, with a patch over his left eye returned the nod. "Dr. Banner, it's nice to see you again."

Bruce edged his way into the room and slowly looked around. "Are you my only guest?"

Nick Fury appeared completely relaxed as he lounged; one ankle resting casually on his knee. "Indeed I am, Doctor. I just wanted to drop by and see how you were doing. We haven't talked in quite a while."

"I thought you had people like Agent Romanoff for this sort of thing." Bruce laid his jacket on the end of his sofa. He felt incredibly violated to find someone in his place without permission. "It would have been nice to get some sort of notice you were dropping by…"

"With all due respect, Doctor, I believe I have every right to take a personal interest in how life is progressing for you." He stopped for a moment. "So how have you been? I suspect relatively calm and collected. Nice place by the way."

Bruce shrugged and jammed his hands in his pockets. He had learned over the years how to handle a little ribbing. The anger was always in him, simmering like a sleeping volcano, with the threat that the _Other Guy_ would emerge and Bruce would lose all control. One of the worst things about the change was that loss of control and it was a reason he fought so hard to resist giving in to the ever present rage within.

"Thanks," he replied softly. "I like it here. For the most part, I'm enjoying New York."

Fury stood; his back ramrod straight and his hands clasped behind him. "Good, I think you are entitled to a nice, quiet life after everything you did to help with Loki. I understand you're seeing a young lady."

Bruce frowned. "I'll correct you. Whoever gave you that little tidbit of intelligence is way off base."

Surprise colored the spy master's face, but he soon recovered and his expression returned to placidity. "My apologies, I had been told you were dating Eve Carter from Stark Industries finance department."

"We're just acquaintances," Bruce corrected.

"Acquaintances of the friendship variety or acquaintances of the hip-grinding type?" Fury was watching Bruce closely. "Miss Carter may not be the best choice for a social companion."

Intimately aware of Fury's intense scrutiny, Bruce forced himself to remain nonchalant in his bearing. He tilted his head and studied the taller man from beneath his brows. "We're just friendly associates. We run into each other at the bookstore and we like to talk to one another. Nothing more, nothing less so I don't see the need for concern." Bruce chuckled. "Look, I'm very aware that most women would be horrified to even walk into the same room as me if they knew about… _him_. No need to warn me about Eve's reaction if she found out."

The expression on Fury's face softened for a moment. "Any woman who feels that way about you isn't worth having around, Bruce. I find you to be an all-around great guy and I like you. I think you can have a decent, productive life if you stay on the right path. I just think you are capable of better than Eve Carter."

Bruce started. "You came all the way to New York to warn me off Eve? Seems a little strange." He pulled his hands out of his pockets and walked across the room; his arms folded over his chest. "Can you tell me anything about her?"

"Miss Carter is rather ordinary from our research," Fury began. "Her parents died in a car accident when she was two. She was raised by her grandparents in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn and her school grades were steady, but nothing spectacular. Miss Carter attended Brooklyn Community College and has an associate's degree in accounting. She has lived in the same apartment for ten years and only has a few friends. She mainly works and socializes with just her grandparents, cousin, Ana Santiago from Stark Industries… and now you." He paused. "Eve Carter also has Asperger's Syndrome."

Bruce was stunned. He had realized the young woman was shy, but he had no idea there was any underlying issue. Clearing his throat, he shook his head. "Wow… you sure know how to drop a bombshell. I assume you're telling me this for a reason."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," Nick Fury headed for the door. "And I certainly don't want to see you break Harlem again. Maybe you should find a woman more like Natasha Romanoff."

Bruce scratched at the nape of his neck before chuckling. "With all due respect to you and Natasha, no thanks. Besides, I think she's sweet on Barton."

Fury looked over Bruce appraisingly and snorted; one hand on the door. "I said _like_ Natasha. No disrespect to you, but you're the first man I've seen with the ability to frighten that girl. Find yourself a decent, strong woman and you'll live a happy life, Dr. Banner." Without another word, Fury was gone with the door clicking solidly closed behind him.

Wiping a hand across his jaw, Bruce shook his head. "Damn, I can't fart without someone from S.H.I.E.L.D. knowing." He began a slow, methodical search of the apartment from top to bottom.

Two hours later, without so much as a listening device or wireless camera in sight, he gave up on the idea that Fury was having him monitored. Only then did Bruce's heart rate return to a normal, steady pace. Unable to concentrate on a book, Bruce took a long shower before deciding to visit a friend.

* * *

Steve Rogers raised one eyebrow and set his milkshake on the counter. "Director Fury came all the way from the HUB to speak with you?" The man known to the masses as _Captain America_ leaned against the cabinets and crossed his arms over his well-muscled chest. He raised one eyebrow before shaking his golden head. "Wow, must be one heck of an urgent matter."

Bruce was seated on a kitchen stool in the ex-soldier's Manhattan apartment. A large window looked over a small space of greenery, too small to be called a proper park, but lovely nonetheless. He sighed and rubbed at his jaw. "He came to warn me that my friend has Asperger's Syndrome. Fury seemed to believe she and I were shagging."

Rogers shook his head as a strained expression crept across his handsome features. "Clearly, I'm way behind the times, Doc. I have zero idea what you're talking about except for the fact your friend is female."

"Shagging means getting it on," Bruce stopped and had a bizarre desire to laugh at seeing Steve's blank look. "Sex, Steve, shagging is slang for sex."

The other man's cheeks burned a deep red and he cleared his throat nervously. "Okay, I understand."

"Asperger's Syndrome is a form of autism. There are all kinds of behavior's a person can exhibit including social anxiety, extreme shyness, and the inability to understand social cues from others."

Steve's brow furrowed. "So basically your friend is a wallflower." He shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with being shy as far as I can tell. What's the big deal?"

Bruce chuckled. "I believe Fury is worried I'm going to break Harlem again." He was well aware that pretty much everyone involved with S.H.I.E.L.D. had been exposed to footage of the Hulk destroying several blocks of a newly renovated section of Harlem. "The most embarrassing part of this whole thing is that I'm pretty sure Eve has no interest in me whatsoever beyond a friendly acquaintance."

"I wouldn't write this young lady off so quickly if I were you," Steve advised. "Shy people tend not to wear their hearts on their sleeves and are very slow to reveal any feelings. If this Eve is spending time with you and she doesn't have to be; I'd say she likes you."

Before Bruce could answer a musical beeping sounded.

Chagrined, Steve pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. "Sorry, I need to take this." He walked past Bruce to the living room and flipped open the phone. "Hello?" Steve paused a moment. "Hello?" The man's face was on fire as he pulled cell phone away from his ear and stared at it. "I hate these darn things! You can never get them to work right…"

Almost as though on cue, a soft knock sounded on the door.

Bruce cleared his throat as he passed Steve; preferring to remain silent on the phone issue out of respect for his friend who was still learning all about modern technology.

Steve was busily punching his finger on the key pad; his brow wrinkled and his mouth becoming a tight line. "Thanks, I need to figure this out before I go insane."

Bruce opened the door only to be faced with a smiling Natasha Romanoff dressed casually in a pair of dark wash blue jeans and a baby blue tee-shirt. She had her auburn hair pulled up in a pony-tail and appeared to be make-up free. Even so, Romanoff was a knock out – a natural beauty.

The moment her mind registered his face, her smile disappeared and her eyes widened slightly. "Nice to see you again, Bruce, I didn't realize Steve had company…"

She looked past Bruce's shoulder and chuckled; the tension in her body easing. "Still trying to figure out the phone?"

"There has to be a logical reason why this piece of junk won't work." Steve complained bitterly as he shook the device.

Natasha eased her way around Bruce like a cat tiptoeing around a Rottweiler. Bruce watched her with a sense of mirth; he was aware since their unfortunate clash on the helicarrier that the infamous Black Widow was nervous around him. He didn't blame her – after all the _Other Guy_ had been out for her blood that day.

Natasha laughed. "I think this may be a case of operator error, Cap."

Steve rolled his eyes but relinquished the phone into her care. "Oh ha-ha, Miss Romanoff."

Bruce had to suppress a laugh as Natasha pressed a button on the cell phone and the sound of a dial tone reached his ears.

She wagged the phone and did a curtsy before handing the device to Steve. "Abracadabra! The ever so mysterious cell phone is fully functional."

Rogers stared at the device, speechless for a moment, before turning his steely gaze on the petite woman beside him. "How did you get the phone to work?"

Natasha folded her arms over her chest as she lifted one elegantly arched brow. "I think you need to start hitting the call receive button." She tilted her head. "Barton is downstairs waiting. Fury has an assignment for us."

Steve sighed and shoved the phone into the front pocket of his khaki's. "Sorry, Bruce, I had no idea duty would be calling."

Bruce smiled. "No problem. I should get back to Stark Tower before Tony starts foaming at the mouth when he finds my lab is deserted."

"Stark is a bit of a slave driver, isn't he?" Natasha asked with a laugh; he couldn't help but notice the sound held a slightly higher pitch than normal. The comment was conversational enough and polite, but Bruce could sense her unease in his presence.

"Tony is a unique guy." He offered his hand to Captain America and grinned when the other man clasped it. "I'll catch you around sometime."

Steve Rogers had treated Bruce with the utmost respect since the Avengers incident. "I hope so, Doc. I always enjoy our conversations." A playful spark lit in the man's blue eyes. "Even if I can't understand half of what you're saying with the scientific mumbo-jumbo."

Bruce followed the pair downstairs to the lobby and nodded at Clint Barton.

The other man, cool and collected as always, simply returned the gesture.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce headed home.

* * *

Agent Pratt sat in his black sedan and watched Bruce Banner closely. He rubbed his greying temple almost absently as he considered everything he had read in Banner's dossier. Home Base had given him implicit instructions to follow the man, but to avoid getting too close. His superiors didn't want to risk Banner's feathers becoming ruffled.

Home Base was a secret department tucked away deep within the bowels of the NSA. While S.H.I.E.L.D. was a more international organization, Home Base was purely American and created, in part, to be a check to S.H.I.E.L.D. and their growing power.

He picked up his smart phone and fired off several messages to his supervisor.

A text came back: _**Follow Banner and report in his location. Once he is stationary, began investigating one Eve Carter. She may be of use to us.**_

Another message arrived, this one with an address in Brooklyn and a photograph of a woman in her late twenties wearing a crocheted raspberry cap. She wasn't beautiful, a step above ordinary perhaps, but she had intense eyes and Pratt could tell she was intelligent just from the picture. Eve Carter was nothing like Bruce Banner's former flame from what he could see.

Pratt wondered what Banner's attraction was to Carter.

He cranked the sedan's engine and smoothly pulled into traffic.

* * *

The house was startlingly quiet aside from the low _rat-a-tat-tat_ sound of a sewing machine humming from somewhere upstairs. Late afternoon sunlight was streaming through the large front window and illuminating the parlor floor a deep umber. The house was a large brick Victorian constructed in 1882 and the wood floors were original; dark stained wide planks of sturdy oak. A fireplace across the room of dark marble held intricate carvings of lion heads interspersed with the heads of angels. The original wallpaper, deep burgundy Fleur de Lis on an ivory background, gave the walls some character. The furniture was eclectic – pieces from the Victorian era blended with a few more modern pieces.

Eve leaned against the window sill and sipped peppermint tea from one of her grandmother's fragile bone china teacups as she watched the neighborhood children playing in the street. She had grown up in this house – a house which had been in her family for one hundred eleven years. There were times she wondered if one day she would raise a family here.

Eve had a feeling the answer was no. Wouldn't she have met the right man by now if she was meant to be married and have children?

The sound of her grandmother sewing and the smell of the tea were soothing to Eve, reminding her that while change was constant there were some things which remained the same.

A creak in the back hall alerted her that her grandfather was returning.

Douglas Carter was seventy-nine and spent a great deal of time fussing over the ten by ten foot patch of soil screened and hidden from view by a large fence. Unlike many of the neighbors, the Carters had enough room for parking vehicles and a small garden. Douglas had tomatoes, herbs, and lettuce along with a hollyhock and a rose bush his mother had planted.

"Well hello there, pumpkin, I'm glad you're still here." Douglas was a tall man with stooped shoulders and steel grey hair. He wore thick glasses to help correct his failing eyesight and seemed to wear a perpetual smile. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Nah," Eve smiled. "I was thinking of getting some take out on the way home. Grandma is all settled in upstairs and I really need to get to bed early tonight." She had come over earlier and helped clean up her grandmother's fiasco with the lasagna which had been burnt beyond a crisp.

The old man smiled at her. "I completely understand. Thanks for coming over and helping to clean up the mess." The smile on his face died as he stared out the window beyond her. "How long has that sedan been sitting out there?"

Eve felt a stab of surprise; she prided herself on being observant but her grandfather was more so. She turned and looked out the window. Across the street was a black sedan with shiny new paint and bright, glittering rims. She barely could make out the man inside; he seemed to be a rather nondescript character in a black suit.

"I'm not sure," she admitted quietly. "Why?"

Douglas Carter came to stand beside her and slipped his arm around his granddaughter's shoulders. "I've never seen that car in the neighborhood before. It seems strange he's just sitting out there."

Eve's brow wrinkled as the man's head turned in their direction before the car started and he pulled out into the street. Carefully avoiding the children, who hurried out of his way, he proceeded down the street before turning right. She found it strange as well that the man had left without getting out of his car.

"How about you stay for dinner and I drive you home?"

She rolled her eyes at him playfully. "Grandpa…"

He smiled wistfully down at her. "Placate an old man, Eve. One day, you'll have a young fellow to protect and watch over you, but until that happens you are my responsibility."

Eve smiled at him and rested her head against his shoulder, wrapped in the scent of Old Spice. "Okay, Grandpa, I'll stay." She didn't bother to contradict his prediction about her love life.


End file.
